


Grieving

by LadyLaela (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Death, Gen, Grief, Self-Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-25
Updated: 2011-06-25
Packaged: 2017-10-20 17:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/LadyLaela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was so hard not to look at that shell and remember sleeping against his brother's chest as a child to shake a bad dream, soothed to sleep by warmth and the primal comfort of a heartbeat<i> except he's cold now and his heart's not beating...</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Grieving

**Author's Note:**

> This was done after Bro died but before we saw Dave actually grieve. I needed some closure on the event.

If there was only one thing Dave knew, it was that he had to go.

He surpressed the shake in his hands as he turned away

 _havetogetoutnow_

From his brother's cold, still body. Away from the glazed red eyes he'd hesitantly pressed closed, and the dark sticky pool of blood. It was so hard to keep from his mind whose blood it was, to stop thinking about how that thin chest should be rising and falling.

It was so hard not to look at that shell and remember sleeping against his brother's chest as a child to shake a bad dream, soothed to sleep by warmth and the primal comfort of a heartbeat _except he's cold now and his heart's not beating..._

It was so hard to resist the urge to do it now, to just curl up there and close his eyes and maybe then he'd wake up and bro'd shove him off and call him a baby. Dave bit his lip. He had to get out of here before he totally lost his cool.

He unceremoniously closed Terezi's window. He couldn't handle her right now.

Pulling out his timetables, Dave spun himself elsewhere.

Any elsewhere.

On an isolated platform on one of LOHAC's skeletal structures, he sank down against a pillar and rested his elbows on his knees, trying to stop thinking. He took a deep breath that shook, and hated himself for the weakness. Looking out over the vista of lava and split rock only reminded him of the roof of the apartment in a Houston heat wave and that only reminded him of bro...

 _Hey lil' man, better wear this or the sun's gonna cook your brains,_ before one of bro's caps was stuck on his head.

With an embarassing little choking sound, Dave clenched his fists.

He wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it. Bro was the best – how could he go and die like that? And if he did, what chance in hell did Dave have? The part of his mind that was still five years old believed even now that if bro was there, nothing really bad could happen. No one else was allowed to beat on Dave, and rue those who dared try it.

With that assurance gone... Dave was outright ashamed to admit, even to himself, how lost he felt.

Then a new shame emerged – bro would never let Dave get hurt, and now the younger Strider was too much of a pussy even to stay with the body. Too weak, too fucking pathetic, and bro would probably be damn ashamed of him too.

Dave shut his thoughts out and started counting his breaths. If he could only keep his mind blank for one more breath, then one more, then another.

He could think more clearly now.

The body, he realized, was nothing more than a shell, and not his brother at all. Noir'd had the fucking nerve to take his glasses and lil Cal, the only material things that would've made him who he was.

Bro was gone. There was nothing left there now, and nothing to be gained from returning.

Dave gritted his teeth. He was so fucking tired... he'd hardly had any sleep since the game started, and emotion still had his nerves twanging. He felt vulnerable and shaky and he was terried of being seen, of facing anyone in this state.

 _Don't you worry bout me, lil bro._

It was something the older Strider had always said, if he got banged up when they were scrapping or hashbattling – usually through his own error, Dave could rarely even touch him.

 _Don't you even worry about me._

It was easier to fight down the tears knowing that bro wouldn't have wanted him to cry, that bro would've wanted him to move on and be strong.

So that's what he would do.

The steel of his resolve hardened around his emotions, keeping the flood in check. A little sleep and he could be fine. He curled up uncomfortably on the steel platform, pillowing his head on his arms, and fell almost instantly into a healing and blessedly dreamless sleep.


End file.
